Arboretum Diary

"A magpie and a golden oriole fly across and the two turtledoves cut through the air, while a blackbird, whom I know, is no doubt going from hedge to hedge in search of his cheap little whistle." – Raynard, from "A Sunrise"








March 18

There is the self-teaching of nature that can be very fruitful – we might call it phenology reporting, as we witness our own little scenes and stations in nature and make very common sense observations.  This approach provides much open joy and the mystery that lurks behind virtually every stump, limb, leaf, caterpillar, squeal of the osprey, glint of the sizzling sun is infinite as we have senses to observe. And then there is approach of following a guide, who most certainly knows his angiosperms and his pollinators. When this world is presented, the self-taught becomes both intrigued and a bit overwhelmed until, after another short distance, and a new shrub is introduced, he realizes that it not only does not quite matter, but that mystery, either way, must be preserved. And so the botanist, we might conclude, looks out upon the sunrise as it's rays begin to laser down across the varying landscapes of Longenecker Garden and wishes that he might see the paint strokes of it all, the jazz of the morning orchestra of songbirds, and the long and deep history that he stands on; just as the impressionist might wish he knew the chemical reaction of the pollination of the beetle onto the Magnolia that is about to bloom.  To rise above the fixation of either is the trick and to be is to be. To be is to know and that no body can take that away or necessarily know more or less.  The Magnolias at Longenecker are soon to bloom. Of the most ancient species of trees, Magnolias are a wonderful storyline of both hardiness and beauty. Millions of years old, they existed before the advent of bees and therefore must have needed a separate pollinator, the beetle, itself ancient, for creation.  Magnolias have survived ice ages and continental drifts, varying climates and no doubt any number of invasive attempts at their livelihood.  And yet here they are in there ancient structure forming cottony buds readying for the right moment to burst. As the weather is perceived more unpredictable than every, the wisdom and strategy of the budding process might hold another view, and have likely seen virtually everything over the millennias. To be in the presence of a museum of trees is more than just the awaiting of the pink blush to come.  There are years of knowledge and wisdom at the end of every limb.  How man has come to interact with time in nature is as much a narrative about the man. The well tended tree that is understood is a good sign.